Page 61 of Shadowed Hearts: Frost
The words come out rougher than intended. Vanessa blinks, confusion and hurt flashing across her face.
"What?"
"You're under my protection." I force my voice back to professional detachment, even though every cell in my body is screaming to pull her back into my arms. "It's inappropriate."
"Inappropriate?" She laughs, but there's no humor in it. "You just kissed me like I was your last meal, and now you're worried about appropriateness?"
She's right. And that's exactly why this can't continue.
"My job is to keep you safe. Not to—"
"Not to what? Feel something?" Her voice rises, color flooding her cheeks. "God forbid Frost has a human emotion."
But that's the problem. What I feel for her isn't normal. It's something darker, more possessive. Something that whispers she belongs to me and anyone who threatens her needs to disappear.
"The investigation comes first."
"Of course it does." She pushes past me toward the living room, her movements sharp with anger. "Message received loud and clear."
She leaves me standing alone in my kitchen, the taste of her still on my lips and the knowledge that I've just made either the smartest or most catastrophic decision of my career.
Because kissing her this time was different. Hungrier. More desperate than that night at her apartment. And that's exactly why this can't continue.
The truth I can't admit, even to myself, is that she's already under my skin in ways that compromise everything I am.
And I'm not sure I care anymore.
seventeen
Vanessa
Itear into the final box of equipment, my fingers working methodically despite my racing mind. Star Wars doodles frame the margins of my handwritten checklist—little BB-8s and lightsabers scattered among surveillance specifications.
"Oscilloscope, check. Signal booster, check," I mutter, aware of Asher watching from his position by the window. His living room has transformed since I arrived; my coding joke coffee mugs among his tactical gear, a small succulent I insisted on buying "to improve air quality," and my hair ties appearing in random places like colorful breadcrumbs.
Morning light filters through his blinds, casting stripes across the equipment spread on his previously immaculate floor. I know it must bother him, this invasion of his space, but he hasn't said a word about it.
"Holy shit," I gasp, pulling out a sleek black device. "Cole actually included the YK-994 frequency analyzer! I'm impressed you convinced him to part with the prototype."
My fingers trace the device most hackers only dream about accessing.
Asher moves closer, a slight smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "I had to promise him full access to your encryption algorithms in exchange."
I look up, surprised. "My algorithms? Those are proprietary. I don't share those with just anyone."
But I'm not actually annoyed. I'm touched that he negotiated on my behalf, recognizing what I bring to the table.
"He seemed to think it was a fair trade." Asher's eyes track my movements as I continue unpacking, his body relaxed in a way I'm recognizing as comfort rather than just tactical awareness.
I dive back into the box, chattering about potential modifications. "If we rewire this beacon to piggyback on their wireless signal, we can—"
My fingers brush against something nestled at the bottom. Heavy, metallic, and definitely not on my list. I drag it out, words dying as I recognize the specialized thermal imaging camera, one I mentioned wanting during a late-night rambling session.
I look up at Asher. "I didn't ask for this."
Asher shrugs, but there's something vulnerable in his eyes. "You mentioned it three nights ago. When you couldn't sleep and were explaining how thermal mapping could track movement patterns through walls."
My heart skips. He listened. Not just listened—remembered.
